


Heckin' Good Bois

by CynSyn



Series: Sozzled in Soho [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels, Archangels, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Dog Jesus, Dogs, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, Please Don't Copy to Other Sites, Westminster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 18:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20604998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynSyn/pseuds/CynSyn
Summary: An angel and a demon are, once again, drinking and arguing in the back of a bookshop.What Would Dog Jesus Do?Crowley looked off to the side, shrugging slightly and curling his lip into a slight grimace.“I suppose your right. Heaven might have been a lot more tolerable with dogs running about.”“Since when are you a dog person?”“I’m not, not really. Not specifically, anyway. But I’m more of a dog person than an Archangel person.”Aziraphale muttered half under his breath, “I’ll drink to that,” and promptly emptied his nearly-full glass.





	Heckin' Good Bois

**Post Arma-good-doggo-no-war-only-peace:**

“Crowley, listen to yourself.” The angel regarded the demon with a look of restrained resignation.

“Let me have this, Aziraphale. I don’t ask for much, and _Someone_ knows, I very rarely get it.”

“Have you considered that there may be a recurring reason for that, my dear?”

“Just… Just hear me out, Angel.”

“All Dogs Go To Heaven is _not_ plenary indulgence.”

“It _could_ be.”

The angel just looked at him.

“Think about it, Aziraphale.” The demon sat upright, drinking deeply from his glass in preparation of choosing his words properly. As properly as wine would allow, anyway. “All dogs are good bois. Heckin’ good bois.”

“They aren’t all boys, Crowley.”

“That’s boi with an i. You’re missing the point. Anyway, so all dogs are good.”

“What about hell hounds?” Aziraphale looked across the top of his glass as he took a smug sip.

“Will you stop trying to poke holes? Besides, that’s the owner, not the dog. The master of the hell hound is the one that sets the expectation. You saw what Adam did with Dog.”

“Dog _is_ a good boy,” the angel relented.

“Right! Anyway, that’s my point!”

“What’s your point?”

“Dog Jesus.”

The angel lifted his glass to his lips, lowering before actually taking a drink. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” The demon grinned, lifting his eyebrows briefly.

“I did. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Be ye not afraid of our Lord and Goodest Boi, Principality.”

The perturbed Principality pinched part of his nose.

The dastardly demon drank deeply from his draught, eyes dancing devilishly over the top. Not unlike this description.

“You’re waiting for me to ask, aren’t you?”

“…no.”

“Well, that certainly is a relief, then, because I have no intention of asking for any further clarification.

“I still say it’s plenary indulgence.”

Aziraphale scoffed. “Dog Jesus is not a _plenary indulgence_.”

“But what if he’s a _very_ good boy?”

“Didn’t you just say they were all very good bois?”

“I did. That’s why all dogs go to heaven.”

Aziraphale just stared at him, blinking bastardly over the rim of his glass as he took another drink.

Crowley looked off to the side, shrugging slightly and curling his lip into a slight grimace. “I suppose your right. Heaven might have been a lot more tolerable with dogs running about.”

“Since when are you a dog person?”

“I’m not, not really. Not specifically, anyway. But I’m more of a dog person than an Archangel person.”

Aziraphale muttered half under his breath, “I’ll drink to that,” and promptly emptied his nearly-full glass.

Crowley grinned, gently taking Aziraphale’s glass to refill it with a gleam of affection in his eye. It was nice to see the angel so much more relaxed and comfortable in his own skin in the days since their foiled executions. Though he hoped it would take less time, Crowley was prepared to spend the rest of eternity repairing what the Archangels broke in Aziraphale long ago.

Aziraphale beamed as he took the offered glass from Crowley’s hand. Against his better judgement, he allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. “Crowley…”

“Hmm?” The demon didn’t look up, but lifted an eyebrow in acknowledgment while refilling his own glass with a fond smile on his face.

“I wonder, what…” Aziraphale paused as Crowley finished pouring and focused his attention and his gaze on him. The angel returned the demon’s gentle, warm smile with one of his own. “What breeds would be represented, do you think, in… in the Westminster Archangel Show?”

Crowley looked confused for a moment before realization dawned, lighting his face up like a Christmas tree. “That’s another set of those D words.”

“Well, broadly in that they’re dogs. But more directly, I suppose it depends on what breeds you select.”

“But I thought I wasn’t _allowed_ to talk about the D words.”

“No, no, I, I’m the one that asked. It’s fine.”

The demon smiled.

“And I don’t actually own you, so you’re free to talk about whatever you like. You don’t need my permission to talk about anything at all. But no, my dear, you’re _still_ _not_ allowed to talk about certain D words.”

“So this is a free pass, then?”

“Whatever you wish to call it.”

“I wish to call it _Plenary Indulgence_, Aziraphale!”

“I’ve changed my mind. This is also a D word.”

Golden yellow serpentine eyes widened quickly and dramatically. “No, nono, wait. Wait. I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Eyes of every color in the liminal Earthly spaces between Heaven and Hell blinked slowly in question.

“Well, er, uh, n- no, I, I’m really not. But I apologize. Yes? Good. I’ll get to the point.”

“No!” The angel barked.

The demon whined pathetically, collapsing like a flan in a cupboard.

The angel sighed, capitulating. “Fine. Please continue.”

The demon looked ecstatic. “Do you really mean it?” He said, breathily.

Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow and grinned. “Don’t turn a yes into a no, Crowley.”

“Oh! Er, uh, y- yeah, okay. Right.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, so… What breeds… What… breeds… I want to get this right, you know? Don’t want to waste this gracious opportunity,” Crowley smirked playfully, extending his glass towards Aziraphale.

“It’s all right, my dear. Take your time.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes in amusement, tapping his own glass gently upon Crowley’s before taking another sip.

“Hmm,” the demon hummed into his glass as he took a sip and smacked his lips in thought. He blew out his cheeks, letting the air pass through his lips loudly. “Who should we start with, Angel?”

“You, I, I think you should choose, my dear.”

“Right, then. That’s a good idea. I think I will. Who should I choose?”

“Gabriel.”

“All right, then. I’m gonna choose Gabriel to start. Is that okay?”

“If you must," The angel replied as if put out.

“I think I better had.”

“Jolly good. So, so what would Gabriel be?”

“Let’s… Let’s consult the internet.”

“The, the internet?”

“Yes, Aziraphale. The internet. Why are we speaking like this?”

“We’re drunk, Crowley.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Yes, the internet.” The demon pulled a laptop out of the ether and opened it. “Okay, so apparently, Westminster is run by the AKC.” He pointed the browser to the AKC webpage.

“The _entire_ city?”

The demon looked up from the laptop and stared at the angel, mouth slightly open, sunglasses sliding down his nose. After a beat, he took his sunglasses off and quietly said, “I doubt that. Probably not,” and looked back down at the screen.

Aziraphale looked at the demon skeptically and refilled his glass, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

“Weimaraner!”

“What?”

“Weimaraner. Says right here,” Crowley explained, pointing at the computer screen. “They enjoy exercise, and plenty of it—"

“That sounds about right,” Aziraphale agreed darkly, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Crowley continued, “Along with lots of quality time with their humans.”

“Oh, that’s not true at all.”

“That’s… That’s how they _get you_!”

Aziraphale gasped softly. “You’re right.”

“I am!” Crowley beamed. “Right, then. Who’s next?”

“That depends,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “How… how strict are we going to be with these?”

“How do you mean? _Oh_! Oh, I think they all have dirty secrets.”

Aziraphale nodded gently, taking another drink without looking up.

Crowley smiled knowingly, rubbing the angel’s knee gently. “Okay, so let’s say they all get one throwaway char- charac-, cha-, feature.”

“That sounds fair. What about you?”

“I’m, er, uh, I’m more of a cat person, really.”

“Really?”

“You don’t think so?”

“I didn’t say that. Quite the contrary, actually.”

Crowley pulled his head back slightly, raising his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Yes, rather, quite so. I like cats.”

Crowley grinned and leaned his head over on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“If you were a cat, I do believe you’d be a Bombay. Lovely, sleek black fur, like a shadow of sharp angles and soft texture. Big, expressive yellow eyes. So affectionate,” he paused long enough to gently stroke the demon’s hair as he nuzzled up against the angel. “Such ravenous curiosity,” Crowley was practically purring at this point. “And you tend to open your mouth to yowl rather loudly at the most inopportune times.”

“Eh…” Crowley pouted and furrowed his brows, head still down on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“You talk too much on occasion, my dear,” Aziraphale clarified.

Crowley pulled back to look at Aziraphale. “The same could be said for you, Angel.”

“Yes, but when _you_ do it, you bring all of Heaven and Hell to your doorstep.”

Crowley tilted his head, pursed his lips slightly, and shrugged his shoulders. “Point taken.”

“What’s this one?” Aziraphale asked, pointing to a link on the screen.

Crowley clicked it, opening up a new breed page. “This is a Basenji. Let’s see what it says here about the Bas- Base-, this breed. Okay,” He muttered to himself as he read the description. “Barkless dog… Compact, sweet-faced hunter of intelligence and poise… They don’t bark, but they make their feelings known with an odd sound described as something between a chortle and a yodel.” Aziraphale perked up slightly as Crowley continued to read aloud. “The challenge of training this catlike canine—"

“That’s Michael!” Aziraphale exclaimed with a little jump.

“How so?” Crowley was genuinely curious about the reasoning.

“Well, it says catlike. That’s a demon. Well, demon-like, for our purposes here. Michael was at your execution, as you may recall me telling you. I found out that Michael was the one who was in communication with Hell when we were discovered.” His eyes widened conspiratorially as he lowered his voice to continue. “She didn’t bark. She didn’t _need_ to. She just… _yodeled_ into everyone’s ear.”

“Someone like that would make it all the way, to the, er, to the top as a tempter in Hell.”

“It’s obviously a preferred trait in Heaven, too, as she’s an Arc- Ac, Archangel.”

“Probably why it was fine for her to be in cahoots, but both sides came after us…”

“And she led the pack that came after me. Sandalphon punched me, you know. In, in the stomach.”

Crowley wrapped an arm around Aziraphale’s waist. “I know. So, Sandalphon, let’s figure that one out.” He moved the cursor around, clicking on a few links, before coming to a stop. “I can’t say that word. Not right now, anyway.”

“D’you think I could?” Aziraphale asked before taking another sip.

“Under normal circumstances, Angel, I think you could do anything. Under the amount of alcohol you currently have in your system, however…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “So anyway, this dog, this _Burble_,” He pointed to the picture of the Boerboel on the page, “is apparently intimidating, powerful, muscular, and has a blocky head.”

Aziraphale giggled quietly, at first, eventually getting louder as Crowley joined in. It was nice to hear the angel laugh. “Burble it is, then.”

“That’s not how you say it.”

“That’s how _you_ said it.”

“And I said it wrong. I said I said it wrong.”

“You said you said it wrong?”

“That’s what I said.”

Aziraphale was confused. “But how do you know?”

“Lucky guess. Anyway, so Sandalphon is a Burble, Michael doesn’t bark, and Gabriel is a that grey ghost dog.”

“And you’re a Bombay.”

“Right. Okay, so that leaves U—”

“I want to be a Pomeranian.”

“I was going to say Uriel, but you can be a Pomeranian if you want.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Thank you.”

“We’ll come back to that in just a minute. Let’s go ahead and get Uriel out of the way.”

Aziraphale nodded.

“Well, that’s helpful,” Crowley pointed to the pronunciation example on the screen. “What about this, this ENT-leh-boo-cur Mountain Dog?” He carefully enunciated as he read.

“What about it? What does it say?” Aziraphale leaned towards the screen to look. “Laughing dog? Well, perhaps, but it isn’t a very nice laughter.”

“We could look at another breed, Angel.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Let’s keep reading.”

“It says here,” Crowley was reading directly from the description now, mostly. Not particularly well, though. “Entle, ent, _these dogs_ are fine dogs—clever, zesty, happy—but not for everyone.”

“Oh, that sounds perfect. Uriel is _most definitely **not**_ for everyone.” Aziraphale groused into his glass.

“Right, so that settles that, then.”

“Refresh my memory?” Aziraphale smiled at him, sweetly.

“Okay, er… um… G- Gabriel is grey, Michael… doesn’t bark, Sandalphon is a Burble, and Uriel just isn’t for everyone.”

“And you’re a lovely Bombay cat, and I’m a Pomeranian.”

Crowley leaned his head back onto Aziraphale’s shoulder and looked up at him. “Yeah.”

“Can we look at the Pomeranian description now?”

“Right, yeah, of course. We’ll do that right now.” Crowley leaned forward to look up Pomeranians on the website. “Oh, look at you! You’re adorable!” He started reading the description. “The ideal companion.” He looked at Aziraphale and nodded with a mischievous grin. “I’d say that’s accurate. Let’s see, what else does it say? It says here that you have a glorious coat. Well, you’ve taken good enough care of it for almost two centuries that it would have to be, wouldn’t it? Smiling, foxy face, oh, most definitely. And apparently, you have a vivacious personality. Well, that’s definitely you, Angel. You’ve made the most perfect selection there ever was.” He gave the angel a gentle squeeze.

“Uh, wait, I think we found your throw-away feature,” Crowley continued.

“What’s that?” Aziraphale looked towards the screen with curiosity.

“It says right here that they master tricks with ease. That’s not you at all.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“No begging. Bad angel.” Crowley pointed a finger in a mockingly chastising way.

Aziraphale snorted. “You’re being ridiculous, Crowley.”

“I can’t help it if your magic act is rubbish, Angel. But I won’t hold it against you when it’s your go in the Westminster Archangel show.”

Aziraphale slowly put his glass down on the table before speaking. “Should I say thank you?”

“I’ve seen your act, so yes,” Crowley said, not looking up as the angel shifted beside him.

“Not even Dog Jesus can save you now!” Aziraphale cried out.

Crowley looked up, suddenly, but regrettably, not soon enough. It was just in time for an angel to thwart him across the head with a pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! It's been over a month since the last stand-alone Sozzled in Soho story. I'm a little rusty. The last time I did something like this was a Sozzled interlude in [Compassion and Perspective, Divine Enablers of an Ineffable Plan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20153602/chapters/47745787) (Chapter 15, specifically, if you want to check it out without committing to the entire work. There's some context you might need in the rest of the story, but it's close enough to a standalone that you don't strictly need it.)  
Otherwise, I've been focusing on [my artwork](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1462243) as of late.
> 
> This idea came about during a ridiculous conversation with a friend of mine that somehow devolved into wondering about Dog Jesus and what breed he would be. I thought he might have been some kind of shepherd, because I have a terrible sense of humor. That got me thinking about how to describe Archangels with dog breeds. I had already done it with types of dolphins in _Cetacean Needed_, the first of the Sozzled in Soho series.  
I figured  

> 
> If you're interested, you can find the descriptions of the dog breeds on the [AKC website.](https://www.akc.org/dog-breeds/?)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Heckin' Good Bois](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23526715) by [ExMarks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExMarks/pseuds/ExMarks)


End file.
